Part 2: A New World Order

The drive home was I don’t know I guess somewhere between awkward and melancholy. I couldn’t think of a time driving with Daphne, except I suppose when either she or I were asleep, when we weren’t talking. We’d talk about everything all the time. There was always something funny to say like the time we were driving through Baltimore once and we drove past a carwash. They had a sign up that said, ‘Polish your Car!’

Daphne had looked at me and asked, “How do you Polish a car?”

I remembered laughing, “You don’t Polish a car, you polish it,” somehow she’d gotten her homonyms crossed up. We both had a good laugh. That was just one of those things that cropped up from time to time, just a little fun thing. When I wanted to give her a light hearted embarrass I’d bring something like that up. She had a few she used on me too.

I drove along in the truck and headed for our house, technically now just my house. Daphne kept staring out the window. As we got closer to home I could see out of the corner of my eye she was getting progressively more nervous. I wanted to hate her. I really did. I mean I wanted to hate her. I said, “The kids will be glad you’re all right and home.”

She kept facing away; it wasn’t a question, more a remark, when she said, “They were worried.”

I kept my hands on the wheel and eyes straight ahead, “They were frantic.”

She asked, “Did they eat?”

I answered, “Geena and I ... We know the routines. We had Burger King last night.”

That got a rise, “You took them there? You know how I feel about...”

Daphne was dead set against junk food; especially on weeknights. She disapproved of fast food altogether, she did allow it occasionally on weekends. I glanced over, “You weren’t there.”

She looked toward me but avoided eye contact, “Did you take your Prevacid this morning?”

I answered, “Yes.”

She looked at me a little more directly, “You’ve been careful, no alcohol... ,” she looked away without finishing her sentence.

I blurted out, “Daphne ... Why?”

She held up her left hand; her palm blocking my vision, “Don’t ... you don’t ... I can’t... ,” she didn’t finish that one either.

I hunkered down on wheel and just kept driving.

We got home. My mom and dad, her mom and dad, my sister, and our kids were all on hand. I helped Daphne out of the truck, but rather than wait and offer my arm like I usually did I walked on ahead. She followed along behind. I did wait and hold the door open for her. When we got in Daphne got a little foretaste of what I hoped would follow for quite a while.

She walked in saw her mom and dad and said, “Hi mom, dad,” she looked around, “Gee it feels good to be back home. You guys been here long?”

Her mom and dad walked right by her. They came up to me. He dad said, “We stopped off at the place like you suggested. The furniture should be here sometime this afternoon.”

I said, “You got a bed, a bureau, big dresser, a small sofa, an easy chair, lamps, radio, and a TV?”

Her dad nodded, “Yeah we got it all.”

Her mom smiled at me, “Call us if you need anything else honey,” she kissed my cheek. They both walked right by their daughter and started for the front door.

Daphne called after them, “Mom, dad aren’t you even going to say hello?”

Her dad kept walking. Her mom stopped for just a second, but then she kept going too.

Daphne stood there and watched them leave. I saw the perplexed look on her face.

Next my mom and dad came over to me. My mom kissed me on the cheek and started right out the door. My dad shook my hand, he gave me a conspiratorial nod Daphne missed, then he said, “Good luck with the new help.”

I shook his hand, “I’ll see you later dad,” and they were gone.

Hillary was next, “I got some boys from the classifieds. The cellar’s been emptied out. I’ll get Wallace and we’ll put the stuff in storage. It’s all ready for your new tenant,” she kissed me on the cheek like my mom and Daphne’s mom had done. As she left she added, “Let me know how things work out.”

I smiled and waved.

All this time our three kids had been sitting silently, side by side on the sofa in the living room; they looked scared. Daphne walked in and stood in front of them all expectantly. The kids just sat there; all wide eyed and looked from me to her and then back to me.

Daphne sort of choked and sniffed in that way people do when they start to cry but manage to hold it in. Then she turned and eyed me angrily, “Oh I get it. I’m being punished.”

I ignored her. It was close to lunchtime, smiling at the kids I yelled out, “Hey kids how about some pizza for lunch,” Brandy yelped, and Michael jumped up and down. Geena gave me a wink. We all went out and loaded up in my pick-up. As we left; Daphne, between the tears she was wiping off her cheeks asked, “Hey what about...”

I held up my hand, “The bathrooms are dirty. No one’s changed the beds. You ought to get downstairs in the cellar and clean the place up before your furniture arrives.”

She looked surprised, “My furniture?”

I smiled benignly, “Your room is downstairs. Your furniture will be here sometime this afternoon. If we’re not back in time you should show them where to put it, and you can sign for it.”

I got a real confused look out of her, “I’m to sleep in the cellar?”

I had to, though it was fake and I think she knew it, I grinned sarcastically, “You didn’t think you’d be up here with the family did you? And by the way get all that woman’s stuff out of my upstairs bedroom. Keep it downstairs in the dresser we got you,” I could see she was beginning to catch on.

I took the kids out and we had a nice time. With Geena’s help I’d managed to persuade Brandy and Michael to understand that mommy had been very misbehaved and needed to be loved but in other special ways she was in trouble. I thought they sort of understood that for now mommy had her own special part of the house, and that she had a right to be left alone if she was tired or needed her privacy. We could go there if she allowed it, but she would not be permitted to just hang out about the rest of house whenever she wanted. Neither Brandy nor Michael particularly liked it, but they agreed, at least for the time being.

Geena wasn’t especially happy either, but she had a better understanding of the kinds of consequences that befell families facing the problem we had. Geena had several friends whose parents had divorced; she knew the kind of misery that experience attenuated. Geena was with me at least for the moment, and I knew as long as I had her I’d have Brandy and Michael. It was a tough burden for Geena, but she’s a smart kid, a good kid.

We had a good lunch at Pizza Hut and then a pleasant afternoon. We went up to the lake; it was still cold but I loved it up there, the kids liked it too, maybe not as much as me. We drove all around. I showed the kids some of the places where their mom and I used to go. I think Brandy and Michael got bored, but Geena was totally tuned in; she knew what I was thinking.

Geena and I were in the front seats. Brandy and Michael were in the back. My truck has an extended cab. Once while we were going real slowly along one of the shadier lanes that paralleled the lake I was looking at some old picnic tables. The shade was from the evergreen trees that rimmed the road. Geena didn’t know it but it was a place that I’d always thought was special to Daphne and I; it was where I’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask her to marry me.

I guess I got a little juicy because I felt a hand on my thigh. I looked down and it was Geena’s. She was still a pretty flat chested kid, but I could see the woman she was going to become. I realized I was looking at her mother. She had this soft smile on her face, “You really love her don’t you.”

I thought, ‘Was I that transparent?’ I slowed the truck down to a stop. There weren’t any other vehicles about so it didn’t matter. I pointed to one of the tables, “That’s where I asked your mom to marry me.”

Geena said, “I know. Mom and I have been here; just the two of us. She told me what a dork you were” she giggled softly, “She told me how you did it; how you got down on one knee and opened the box with the ring. She told me how scared you looked; like you were afraid she’d say no. She laughed when she told me that. She said how you were really stupid; that you had no idea how long it took her to get you.”

I was surprised, “She told you all that?”

“Yeah, well you know mom; she likes to talk, and dad, you’re her favorite topic.”

Gosh I felt good, but sad too. I said, “I’m scared sweetie. I don’t know what she’s done. I wish I’d never let myself go down to that motel the other day. I keep thinking of that Toby Keith song ‘I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then.’ I’d do anything if I could just go back and pretend nothing happened.”

Geena kept smiling, “We’ve got a good plan daddy. I think it’ll work. I think mom’s scared too. I talked to Janet Miller, my best friend at dance class. Her mom and dad got divorced, but they came back together. Janet said her dad used to be gone all the time and her mom did what our mom did. Janet said her dad changed jobs. He stays home more now. She said sometimes they fight, but both her parents told Janet that they’re sticking it out. Janet and her brother are glad too.”

I watched my daughter talk. First right away she called me daddy; this to me meant I was getting some serious sincerity. I was a little scared for her. I didn’t know what the long term reaction to her finding her mother unconscious like she did would do. No matter what I’d be watching out for that.

I chucked Geena on the chin. It was a real soft chuck. I said to her, “I already cut back at work, and mom’s staying at home from now on. She’d been hinting around at staying home anyway. There won’t be as much money, but we’ll be OK.”

Geena offered, “I can quit dance and get a part time job.”

I was talking to an adolescent again, “No, you’re not giving up dance, and your only job is school. Brandy will keep her pony, and when Michael’s ready for things like Boy Scouts I’ll be there.”

I thought about that; being a good father was important. I’d had a good one, Michael deserved the same. I’d been an Eagle Scout. Chris had been one also. If dad hadn’t been there to support us we probably wouldn’t have stuck it out.

Geena and I heard a chirp from the back, “I don’t need to have riding lessons.”

That’s when I remembered the old saying ‘little jars have big ears’, “Don’t worry about the pony Brandy.” I started driving the truck again. I said, “How about we all get a coke?”

Michael yelled, “And a Big Mack?”

Geena looked in the rear view mirror, “No way. Remember what mom said.”

Michael yelled back, “I thought mom was being punished.”

Then Brandy got into the act, “She is but we still have to go by mom’s rules.”

‘Jesus, ‘ I thought, ‘there has to be some mistake. There’s something out of whack. I just don’t know what it is.’ I yelled, “Mom’s been naughty, but she still makes the rules! Who wants some music,” I reached for the radio. We have tons of cds. Daphne and I used to steal them from each other.

Brandy yelled, “Kelly Clarkson!”

Michael hollered, “No, mommy likes Miranda!”

I asked Geena, “What about you?”

She giggled and started singing, “I cut my hair bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors...”

Brandy was right after her, “I screamed his name till the neighbors called the cops...”

I hit the next line, “I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver...”

Then we were all yelling, “Don’t know what I did next, I only knew I couldn’t stop...”

I drove we all sang. We stopped at an old ice cream place and we all got a Coke. As we drove home, yeah it was home, I kept thinking, ‘Daphne told Geena about how I proposed. She told her I guess about how we dated. We have these three kids. They were really more Daphne’s kids than mine. For her to have an affair just seemed so crazy. But I know what I saw!’

We got back to the house a little after 6:00 p.m. I still didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to punish Daphne, but the only methods I could think of would be too devastating for my kids. Did I want to shred my kids’ lives to pieces just to get back at their mother? I knew I wanted to get back at Daphne, but certainly not at the expense of the kids. If I could keep Daphne on a tight leash; she’d still be around, still be available to meet the children’s and my day to day needs, but she’d be effectively excluded from the status she once enjoyed. Did I want to hurt her? Yes absolutely. Did I want to humiliate her? Well yeah, maybe a little bit? Did I hate her? I think from everything I’d read I was supposed to. I know it hurt when I thought about the Holiday Inn.

We got back to the house like I said. I still was a little uncomfortable thinking of it as my happy home; it was just the place where I’d live until I figured something else out. We walked in the door and brother what a surprise!

Sure it had been less than a week, but while I had been gone and then Daphne’s stay in the hospital the house had fallen into something bordering on chaos. We walked in and it was like the world had been restored to order. Everything was where it was supposed to be. The house was clean; no dirt or lint on the carpets, don’t forget vacuuming was supposed to be my job, kitchen and bathroom floors waxed to a sparkling shine, clothes all put away, no dust, no toys or other debris lying about, things looked back to normal, no better than ever!

Brandy and Michael walked in; saw the retransformation and cheered, “Mommy’s back!” Geena just looked at me and smiled. That’s when Daphne stepped into the living room.

God!

Daphne was wearing a pretty pleated plaid miniskirt, a pale off-white cotton button up long sleeved blouse. I couldn’t tell for sure, but there was some kind of chemise or camisole under that translucent almost transparent blouse. Talk about feminine!

One thing for sure; she wasn’t wearing a bra, and as she moved her breasts rhythmically and synchronically undulated just under the soft cotton of her tailored top, it was like they were a life form all their own. I gulped.

She had on dark brown knee high stockings, and an old pair of dark brown, well-polished, lace up shoes. They say sometimes to conceal is to reveal; all I can say is her pink naked thighs between the skirt and knee highs were riveting.

Her hair was up in two tight ponytails; each tied off with a yellow ribbon. It conspicuously revealed her neck and her upper shoulders where the blouse genteelly pulled out and away from her soft skin.

Her blouse was a good fit, but the way she’d tucked it inside her skirt caused the buttons to act as though they wanted to pull free from their circular snares, the button holes; this emphasized the presence of the two pear shaped orbs trapped just beneath the thin material.

Her breasts; they seemed to be endeavoring to escape their soft prison. Mind numbing but discreetly erotic; it caused me to experience a stirring response. My hands and fingers hungrily flexed and closed as if they were involuntarily willing the shielding fabric to shred and pull apart.

She was wearing makeup, but it was so subtle as to be almost indiscernible, maybe a little blush, a tad of eye shadow, a hint of mascara, and just a trace of pink lip gloss. I could see she’d manicured her nails, but she’d used a clear polish; red would have been the color of a wanton, but clear conferred purity, innocence.

The package before me was unnerving. My Johnson sprang to attention. ‘Jesus, ‘ I thought, ‘so this was how it was going to be.’

She came over; scuffed Michael’s raggedy mop of hair; ran the palm of her left hand across Brandy’s cheek, smiled at Geena, and blinked at me. I knew this woman, I knew her traits; she was deliberately trying to evince vulnerability, availability and the forbidden all at the same time and wow was she succeeding!

Gosh! I saw those long lashes and those big brown come hither bedroom eyes and I almost had a dishonorable discharge right there in my pants.

She walked toward me, picking up Brandy’s and Michael’s coats on the way and reaching for my shoulders said, “Here let me get your jacket.”

My palms were wet. My heart was pounding. I lowered my shoulders while she helped me out of my exterior protective wearing apparel. I could smell her perfume, Chanel Chance, my favorite. I felt like I was being consumed!

“Have a nice afternoon,” She asked?

I responded huskily, “Yeah, pretty good.”

Michael was headed for the downstairs, but stopped at the edge of the dining room, “Hey mom what’s that I smell? Is that your lasagna?”

She spun around; her skirt spiraled up and out revealing more thigh and a brief glimpse of white panty. Then in that lyrical voice I loved so much she said, “With a garden salad, garlic bread, and my special homemade bread pudding for dessert.”

I knew I’d have to watch my portions tonight. I stared at my wife. I was starving, simply starving.

Brandy was running toward the kitchen, “Gee all this after only like a few hours!”

Geena was flushed. She turned to me, “How do you think she did it?”

I shrugged as I watched my estranged wife float toward the kitchen to intercept Michael. I never thought of Daphne as someone who had an especially great body. She seldom exercised. There were stretch marks from the three kids. She had a little tummy. Her thighs were a little larger and rounder than when we dated. Her boobs were nice but not great. She had what I always thought was a pretty but not a beautiful face. I guess what captivated me was the way the total package sort of sprang into life when she started to talk. I always thought she’d been the most vividly alive woman I’d ever met, and until Saturday I thought this treasure had always been exclusively mine, or at least exclusively mine since we’d gotten married.

While watching her walk to the kitchen I thought of her walking out of that room at the Holiday Inn, but I didn’t get angry, I wasn’t resentful, I was suffused with an overwhelming sense of loss, profound feelings of despondency, of sadness, and confusion. This woman had been mine, but now she was gone, lost to me, maybe forever. I thought of a line from an old Concrete Blond song, ‘Everybody has that sinking feeling like their mother or their dog just died.’

Maybe I never had her? I thought back on the years before we dated and married. I keep going back to those times. Daphne is older than me. I remember watching her when we were still young, dumb, and without responsibility. She was never a cheerleader, a baton twirler, or beauty queen or any of that stuff, but boys always hung around her. At the dances she was always surrounded by admirers. She never seemed to miss a weekend. Whenever I got out, which wasn’t all that often, I’d see her, she was always out, out with some guy. At the public park, on the beach, at the mall, up at the lake, damn just hanging out at MacDonald’s there was always some boy with her.

I’d see her and she’d see me. I know she saw me because she always looked right at me. I guess she thought I was some kind of weirdo. I always thought she was wonderful. So did everybody else.

Nobody had any proof, but all the guys I hung with were sure Daphne had probably slept with half the boys she dated. I mean there were the whores; the girls everybody knew who would go down on a guy at the parking lot, or who could be relied on for a good toss after a movie.

After high school I dated a few of them. I thought most of them were kind of sick, like mixed up in the head, but hell I needed relief sometimes, and a homemade hand job was never much real fun. I can remember the guys who dated Daphne; their knowing winks, the self-serving nods, the manly shrugs always accompanied by the standard, “well you know Daphne.”

Well I never knew Daphne. A few months before I got close enough to risk even thinking about asking her for a date she started what later I liked to call her little parade. She was a little older, but for a time it was like she was walking through all my friends. One after the other she seemed to be with this one or that one. None of them seemed to last long, but they all always seemed to walk away with that satisfied grin, that smug self-satisfied look.

The last on the list I recall was my brother Chris. Somehow he picked up on her, or she picked up on him, and for nearly two months she was in and out of our house more than I was.

She’d be in our bedroom. God she smelled good! Chris and I shared a room. Hillary got the only private room. That was fair, she was the girl.

How did things start up between me and Daphne? Damn, I’d wondered about that off and on for years. It happened sort of by accident. I thought she was supposed to be Chris’s date for some kind of activity. Well Chris was out somewhere doing something with some bunch of guys, and Daphne, I guess wondering where he was, she dropped over. She and I ended up alone, just the two of us, in the room I shared with Chris. She acted different, kind of funny when it was just us alone.

She sort of drifted around the room picking up this or that. She was wearing a loose white blouse and a pair of real loose looking tan shorts. She had on tennis shoes but no socks. The shoes were white; they had red laces but they were tied real loose. She had that special real faint smell I liked. Her hair was long, down around her shoulders and was real thick and wavy. She kept pushing it out of her face. Every time she pushed it her boobs moved.

Chris had his footballs, his lacrosse sticks, his batting helmet all that stuff all over the place. Me, I had nothing out. All my stuff was put away. Isn’t it odd how a person can remember almost every detail about some particular time or event? It’s been years but I still remember every single second of that night.

She turned around on me and acted kind of self-conscious, sort of shy. She leaned back against Chris’s bureau with her hands and arms back but still at her sides; the way she stood there pushed her breasts out. I saw her nipples as they pushed against the cloth of her underthings and her blouse. I thought she was beautiful. She asked, “This is your room too, but I don’t see any of your things.”

I was surprised and excited both at the same time. I walked straight to the bottom of my bureau and pulled out a big notebook. I opened it up, “I’m a writer,” I told her.

I had all kinds of stupid poems and short stories I’d written. Why I got it out I couldn’t say. Chris, Hillary, my parents they knew I had this, but they’d left it alone. Now here I was getting my most secret stuff out and showing it to my brother’s girlfriend, a girl I liked but I believed had something of a sexy reputation, and for all I knew thought I was a nothing, just a creepy younger brother.

For all I knew she might look at my secret stuff and laugh, or worse she might tell everybody what a backward wimpy nerd I really was. Then what was the really extra scary thing; remember this was my special secret place, well I had a couple sheets of paper squeezed in among all my other wrinkled raggedy stuff.

On those couple sheets of paper I had written a girl’s name all over the place. Of course anyone with a brain by this time knows whose name was on those two hidden special sheets of paper.

OK, here are the facts about me. I was never any good at sports. I couldn’t wrestle or fight or anything like that. When they chose up teams I was always last to be picked. Sometimes if there was an odd number of guys they’d argue over which side had to be stuck with me. My grades in school were mediocre. The only teacher in high school who ever took an interest in me was the gay art teacher. To tell the truth I was glad he liked me; I thought he was cool.

I remembered some of the teachers were really crappy. There was one math teacher I really liked. I saw him out once, and he never asked about me, he said something like, “hey how’s your brother Chris?” I felt like telling him to fuck off, but I didn’t I told him what Chris was doing. Teachers and professors when I was in college all seemed to look past me so they could talk to the real scholars or the really hot girls.